


Cabin 11: Viper

by SimplePassion



Series: 1000 Ways to Tell the Stoll Brothers Apart and I Can Name You One [18]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Aello the Harpy, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Drama, Gen, More Than Usual, One Shot, POV First Person, cabin 11 is best cabin, cursing, double crosser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplePassion/pseuds/SimplePassion
Summary: I greeted my counselor WWE-style.Maybe that's why we started out on a bad foot.(a thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Cabin 11 - Cursing)





	Cabin 11: Viper

# Cabin 11 — Cussing

Travis (16) - Connor (15)

Pre-The Last Olympian

June

Don’t poke fun, Azazel.

Don’t cause trouble, Azazel.

Don’t be rude, Azazel.

All very simple things to do, according to my leaders.

Yet not even the end of day 1 and I failed all three. See, what happened was entirely not my fault. I blamed the twins. Aeron told me they’re not twins, but that’s bullshit. They share the _same freaking face_. Gods don’t go back for a second kid. They have to be twins.

But I’m digressing.

The point is I am not at fault.

It’s Connor.

Everything is Connor’s fault.

* * *

 

It started out fine.  

I got dropped off at Camp Half Blood. That was fine.

I talked with Chiron. That was also fine.

I got a tour of the camp. That went fine too.

I met Travis. Also went fine.

Then I met Connor and that’s when everything went not fine.

I admit we didn’t meet in the most positive way. Okay, our first meeting wasn’t exactly friendship starting. It wasn’t even acquaintance worthy. I guess it’s might have been more like a WWE greeting. I might have elbowed him in the stomach. Might have.

But it was a complete, total accident.

That’s what I know for sure.

See, I got to camp around 8 pm and not around 6 pm because Aeron got lost. Not my fault. And my tour guide plus talk with Chiron lasted until 10. Also not my fault. And my meeting with Travis took 30 minutes. The guy would not stop talking. Definitely not my fault. By the time I was done showering and brushing my teeth, it was already midnight.

I was _tired_ , okay? I had a long day. I deserve the rest. So I guess… I might have… I don’t really remember all too well… okay, fine, I jumped into bed. It’s what I always did before back at the grounds. Why should I change my habit here?

I was assigned bed 14, lower bunk. I did check but my dyslexia must have mixed up 14 with 18. Whatever, no biggie. It happens, yeah?

But imagine my surprise when my elbow connected with flesh and my back with limbs. It was definitely a wake-up call. And it was also a wake up call when I was pushed off by the lump and rolled onto the floor, flat on my stomach, with my arm pinned to the floor. A knee dug into the middle of my back and when it ground down, I yelped.  

The light turned on and I twisted to see which bastard was pinning. When I saw it was Travis, I was ready to tear his heart out and chop it in the blender. But up above, a similar face peered down from the top bunk, sleepy-eyed. It hits me that Travis has a brother. A twin who is more bellicose. A twin who is more confrontational. A twin who is better at kicking ass. A twin named —

“Connor?” Travis yawned. “What are you doing?”

Connor glared at me before he flashed a beaming smile up to Travis. His hand let go of my wrist, but the knee remained. “Nothing. Just another newbie trying to murder me again. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

Travis yawned again. “Okay. Yell if you need me. Goodnight.”

Then he rolled back to bed and out of sight.

Connor’s still on top of me and I bucked up, twisting back and forth. “Let me go! What the fuck is your problem?”

Connor held on for a second longer, a second much too long, _I’m going to kill this son of a_ — before standing up. I shot to my feet in a second and shoved my finger in his chest.

“What was that for, dickwad?”

An eyebrow rise. “Dickwad?”

“Yeah, shitface. Why did you attack me?”

That seems to get his attention. He leveled his eyes to me. His blue hues reminded me of Richard back at the grounds. Richard was a dick too. “I attacked you? You attacked me first, ‘shitface’.”

Then he knocked my finger away.

A wave of “ohhh” followed. I looked around us and saw a sea of faces grappled with the confrontation unfolding in front of them. Shit, we must have woken them all up.

“Fight, fight, fight!” A girl shouted from a top bunk.

A boy from the lower bunk rose and hushed the girl. He wasn’t young like the others. He seems more like my age.

“Callie, shh. Don’t scream. Let’s just all go to bed.”

There’s a collective groan.

“Why are you always a party pooper, Chris?” the girl whined.

“It’s 1 in the morning. Everybody go to bed,” Connor ordered. Then he turned to me and glares. “That means no cannonballing on to the bed.”

That pisses me off for some reason. Because I was absolutely sure that _he_ was in _my_ bed. In hindsight, I was completely wrong. I mean, I could clearly see two beds down an empty bed with my suitcase on it. But then and now, with my sleep-deprived state, I was absolutely sure I was right.

“You’re in my bed.”

He scoffed, “You’re on bed 18.”

“Yeah, that’s 18.”

“No, this is 14.”

“It’s 18.”

“14.”

The guy who shushed the girl earlier rose again and got in between us. He’s peering anxiously at the top bunk, whispering, “Hey, let’s keep our voices down. The harpies are out and we really don’t want them to—”

But Connor only turned his back to Chris, facing the cabin with a disgustingly saccharine smile. At once, everybody fell silent. “Lights off. We have another busy day tomorrow. Come on Azazel I’ll show you where—”

I rolled my eyes. “And what are the harpies going to do? Scold us? Are you that much of a wimp?”

Connor’s smile tightened and I could feel a wave of bad energy rolling off him. “You know, you are _really_ starting off on a bad foot for your first day here.”  

“Hey, guys, please don’t fight. This is just a misunderstanding,” Chris pleaded, but I didn’t spare him a look.

I raised my head and straightened my back to reach my outstanding full height of 5’3”. But Connor still looked down at me. God, I hate being short.

“Well, you aren’t leaving a great impression either. Aren’t you supposed to be the head counselor? You’re not very welcoming.”

“Connor, come on. Be the bigger person…”

Connor crossed his arm. “And you tried to kill me with your elbow yet not once have you said sorry. Manners take you places, you know?”

“Too loud. Library voices, guys. Come on. It’s not that hard.”

I rolled my eyes. “That wouldn’t have killed you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Connor, you’re supposed to be the role model here. Stop arguing.” Chris tried to place a hand on Connor’s shoulder but Connor rolled it off. The glare he gave could freeze water in a desert. Chris backed away immediately and I could see guilt, shame in his eyes. The cabin fell into a heavier silence.

There’s something going on here. There’s bad blood between them. I could see that. And I could also see the camp beads on their necks. Aeron said they corresponded to the number of years they been at camp. Connor has 8. Chris has 5.

Something happened between them.

Maybe something I can use.

Connor turned back to me, smile grossly sweet again. “Follow me. I show you where —”

A door creaked.

Connor’s eyes widened.

He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me down to the dirty floor as Chris dived for his bed. The lights turned off.

But it turned back on a second later and I got a good look at what I always called the night guard from hell.

Harpies are always creepy up close.

The harpy didn’t come inside, instead only crossing her arms and tapping her chicken feet on their wooden. “It’s past curfew. Lights were supposed to be off hours ago. Where is your counselor?”

Connor leaped up and approaches the front with the easiest going smile I ever saw. It’s like magic, watching how fast he switched personas.

“Hey, Aello!” He walked to the front door. “Sorry, we just had a misunderstanding with our new roommate. You know how it is sometimes.”

“I still have to write a citation.”

Someone groaned.

Aello narrowed her eyes. “Which one are you?”

Connor smiles widen. “I’m Connor, you know, the one that got you that blueberry muffin for your birthday!”

“Uh-huh. Sure you did.” Aello obviously didn’t trust his word. I wouldn’t either. “Well, where’s your brother? I need you both here.”

Connor’s smile dropped a bit. “He’s sleeping. I can take the citation.”

“Wake him up.”

Connor inhaled slowly, the smile becoming more strained. “He’s sleeping though.”

The harpy tapped her claw faster. “I’ll give it to you both. Celaeno told me the last time she gave you a citation, you never signed and returned it.”

“But—”

“Just wake him up,” the harpy finally snapped.

Connor’s jaw clenched, but he stepped aside. “Fine. You do it.”  

“Uh, Connor, I don’t think that’s a really good—” Chris started, but Connor shook his head.

“ _My night is already ruined. I might as well ruin hers too_.” Then to the harpy, he nodded. “Go on. He’s three beds down, on the left, top bunk.”

I watched the harpy sauntered down the cabin, clawed feet scratching on the board. Chris bite his lower lip, looking back and forth between Connor and Aello. He looks scared. But Connor looked fine. Even amused and … wait, is that a camcorder in his hands?

Aello is by Travis’s bed. She called his name a few times, but Travis didn’t shift. Then she rattled the bed. Travis didn’t respond. Then she’s yelling his name. Travis didn’t move _at all._

He got to be faking it. No one can be that heavy a sleeper.

Then the harpy climbed the ladder.

Chris couldn’t hold back anymore. “Aello, don’t touch Travis while he’s—”

She grabbed what I think is the ankle. I don’t know. I can’t see everything from my angle.

What I do know is that a foot comes flying towards Aello’s face. And I watch it connect with her face with so much force she’s tumbling off the ladder, squawking all the way down and Connor’s cracking the music to her downfall. She landed to the sound of our snickers.

Travis jerked upright, peering from the top.

“Oh man.”

He winced.

“Someone please tell me this is a dream.”

* * *

 

I really regretted not paying attention when Aeron was going over Greek Mythology. If I had known who Hermes was, I would have been a lot more careful.

I woke up due to Connor’s (or is that Travis’s screaming?) “Wake up. Get ready. We have 15 minutes till breakfast and we are not going to be late again. Hey, WWE World Champion on bed 18, get up!”

No, that’s definitely Connor.

I rolled over and pulled the cover over me just to spite him. Screw this guy. He isn’t the boss of me. I’ll get up when I want to get up.

Then my blanket is ripped off of me. I sit upright in anger, 1000% ready to cuss out that son of a bitch, when I see it’s Cassie (Callie? Caddie? What was her name again?) smiling at me with her soft, 7-year-old features.

“Azazel, it’s time to get up,” she says with the brightest of smiles and I’m not enough of an asshole to refuse an elementary kid.

I threw my legs to the side, but rather than the feel of my bunny slippers, I felt something cold. Slimy. Gooey.

Oh my god.

Cassie, Callie, Caddie, who the fuck cares, burst into laughter and raced to a grinning Connor.

“Connor! Connor! I did it! Did you see? Did you?! It was super easy!” That little twerp giggled, high-fiving him. Connor smiled back with a proud smile that makes me want to barf.

“Great job, Callie! You’re getting really good at setting up pranks.”

I’m going to kill them. They’re gonna die. They’re gonna suffer. They’re gonna regret —

Travis burst out of the restroom, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “Alright everyone we all _really_ have to get going. Up, up, up. Derrick, stop faking it. Erica, I can see you hiding up there. Kevin, put down the Gameboy. Azazel, get…”

I glare at him, daring him to say something. Anything.

Travis opened his mouth but closed it smartly a second later. Only to be a complete dumbass again as he smirked. “You fell for a prank like that? Come on, Azazel. You gotta pay attention.”

“And it was so easy!” the twerp said.

“You’re all a bunch of fucking dicks,” I grumbled.

No sooner I said that a jar was shoved in my face. I glare at the holder, Travis, who now doesn’t have a smirk on his face.

“No cursing. Write your name on the paper and put it inside.”

Is he being serious? His face says he’s being serious. I didn’t move for the Sharpie and slip of paper. “Why?”

“We have a strict no cursing rule.”

“You’re kidding,” I say with raised eyebrows.

His face tells me he isn’t. Is he for real? “Parents don’t like it when their kids cuss.”

I stand, shaking the disgusting goo off my feet. Shit, Travis is the same height as Connor. “You do know that in the real world, there’s cursing everywhere? Movies, books, the internet.”

Travis nodded, but his face told me he’s not relenting. “Yeah, and that would be on the parent. I don’t want it on me. They can go yell at themselves or the school. I don’t them yelling at me. So take a piece of paper, write your name, and put it in.”

I gritted my teeth as I take the paper and scribble my name on it. As I drop it into the jar with a few other pieces of paper, I asked, “What’s that for?”

And he smirks as he goes to put the jar on a nightstand. “I realize it’s unfair to use drachma as punishment. Not everybody has it and drachma is valuable for Iris Messaging and transportation. So to be completely equitable, at the end of Summer we each create a truth or dare and draw five papers from the swear jar to pair it with.”

I gawked at the jar. “There’s only 4 papers in that jar.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There’s 50 of us!”

Travis shrugged. “Then you shouldn’t have cuss.”

“You son of a — what about your brother! He cusses a lot more than I do!”

Cassie, Callie, Caddie piped up with an upraised hand, smiling brighter than the sun. “He gets his own jar! Everytime he says a bad word, we get to write a truth or dare. But everytime we say a bad word, he gets to take a paper out.”

Connor smirked and plucked a slip from the jar labeled in crayon, ‘Connor’s Potty Mouth.’ “Yeah, so thank you very much, _Azazel_. Get ready. We’re lining up and if we’re late, Chiron isn’t going to be happy.”

By chance, he read the slip and turned around with a pout, waving the piece of paper. “Okay, who wrote this? ‘You’ll give everyone in the cabin 100 drachmas.’ That’s not a dare. That’s burglary!”

And somewhere in the back a kid groaned. “Thanks, Azazel. You ruined our chances of becoming rich.”

“I hate you all.”

I stomped to the restroom, slammed the door as loud as I possibly can, and kicked it for good measure too.

Dicks. Stupid shits. They’re all goddamn ugly shits. I can’t wait till they’re all begging on their knees for their lives. Others failed before me. But I’m different. My mother’s veins flow more strongly in me than my siblings. To fight. To win. It’s what I was born to do.

Someone pounded on the door, telling me to hurry up, that they’re about to leave. I ignored them and crouched by the door, waiting, biding my time. Eventually, the laughter ceased. The noises dimmed. People are leaving and I wait till it’s completely silent. Till everybody is gone.

I stood after two minutes of utter silence. They should all be out by now.

But when I exited, there stood Travis, leaning against a bunk bed. He raised a hand. “Hey.”

“What do you want?” I said.

“Just to say sorry. Your first days are kinda starting out rough,” Travis had the audacity to said. As if he didn’t play a key role in it. As if he didn’t encourage their behavior.

“Then maybe do your job and make sure this shit doesn’t happen again,” I snapped. I hurled my towel at him, but he leaned easily out of the way.

The cabin is empty. It’s just us.

It’s just us, but it feels so small.

Travis is staring at me. He’s acting weird. He’s grinning weirdly. And, _shit,_ I can feel my hands getting clammy.

“Hey, Azazel, how old are you?” He asked casually, like he’s talking about the weather.

“None of your business.” I tried to walk past him, but Travis side-stepped to the center, blocking me from leaving, blocking the only exit. I narrowed my eyes. There’s no windows besides me. The bathroom behind has no escape too. Trapped. Cornered. Does he know? Is this why he’s doing this? No, his body posture is too relaxed. He doesn’t know.

Travis tapped his chin in faux thought. “I’m gonna guess 16, just like me. Am I right?”

“Why do you want to know? Are you some kind of sicko pervert?”

“Any idea who your Godly parent is?”

“I don’t give a fuck about that.”

Travis’s smile became strained. “What are you here for? We normally get 12 year olds since that’s when the monsters start coming.”

“Why do you want to know? Does it even matter?”

And again Travis’s smile tightened. It’s creepy. A bad feeling crawled into my stomach.

“Just asking. It’s the usual questions we ask all newcomers. Normally by the time a demigod hits their 16th birthday, they know how to handle monsters. Do you have family issues back home? It’s okay. I totally understand. I have mommy issues and Connor has everybody issues.”

“I’m done being interrogated. Where are the others?”

I could literally hear the ding.

Travis’s head lower but I could still see his grin. Stilted. Bitter. Tired.

It’s scary.

_He’s scary._

And I couldn't help reach into my pocket to clasp my lucky charm. His eyes followed my hands and I want to curse myself. Body control. Face expression. Pulse. Breathing. Everything Aeron taught me is flying out the window.

Travis turned around and walk to the door, voice back to its usual chirpiness and easy going quality like nothing. “They’re eating right now. Come on, I’ll lead you to the dining common.”

He opened the door, but waited for me. I sucked up my trepidation and took cautious steps towards the door. But as I strode past him, his voice flitted between us. Too soft, too low, too _subdued_ that if I wanted I could brush it off as my imagination.

_“Aeron is wrong.”_

But when I whipped around, all I see is that easy-going smirk he had that morning. He motioned with his hand to the dining commons. “You hungry?”

He knows. He knows. _He knows._ _What the fuck. Aeron, you fucking bastard. You said your half-brothers were fucking idiots._

**Author's Note:**

> As a daily user of Reddit and Tumblr, I always see people complain about comments, about not getting enough even though there’s this many kudos, this many hits, this many subscribers. Do I feel the same way? Yeah which is why I have the skin to hide my hit counts. I feel better assuming no one is reading rather then somebody is reading but chose not to say anything. Getting comments makes me so happy and sometimes that high carries on throughout the day to the next. Some people say if you make it to the end of a fanfic, you should leave a comment. I disagree. If you don’t want to comment, I won’t force you. I won’t withhold chapters. Reading shouldn’t be stressful and if writing a comment gives you anxiety or if you don’t have the energy to write one, then it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. (But if you do have the time and the energy and the want to write one, you would literally make my day.)


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